those are all my notes; and if you muck them up!.. You fat lunatic, what is all this…'
`Don't argue,' said the doctor, testily. `Have you got a revolver and a pair of handcuffs on you?'
Hadley looked at him. He said:
`Fell, you're stark, staring mad! They only carry those things in the stories and on the films. I haven't had a revolver or a pair of handcuffs in my hands for ten years.’
`Then I have,' the doctor said, composedly. `I knew you'd forget them.' With the air of a conjuror he produced from his hip pockets both the articles he had mentioned and held them up, beaming. He pointed the revolver at Rampole and added, 'Bang!'
'Look out!' shouted the chief inspector, seizing at his arm. `Be careful with that thing!'
`You needn't worry. It's a dummy pistol even a Scotland Yard man couldn't hurt himself with it. It's just painted tin, you see. The handcuffs are dummies, too, but they both look realistic. I got them at one of those curio shop places in Glasshouse Street, where you buy all the trick things. Here are some more of them. I couldn't resist buying several. There's `a mouse that runs across the table on some sort of roller when, you press him down', - he was fumbling in his pockets — `but we don't need 'em now. Ah, here was what I wanted.'
With manifest pride on his large red face he produced an enormous and impressive-looking gold badge, which he hung on his lapel conspicuously.
`To the man we're going to question,' he observed, `we have got to look like a real crowd of detectives. That we do not look like, the same to the chief of the C.I.D. is of no consequence. But we have got to look the part for Mr Marks's benefit or we shall get nothing out of him. The handcuffs will lie before me, and you, Hadley, will be suggestively fingering the revolver. My young friend here will take down his testimony… Turn out those centre lights, will you?' he added to Rampole. `Just the brilliant spotlight on his face, and ourselves in shadow. I think I shall keep on my hat. We now look sufficiently like the classic group, I think, to have our pictures taken.'
Rampole inspected them as he went to turn out the centre lights. There was a slight suggestion of people having their pictures taken at one of those beach-resort places where you put, your head over the top of a cardboard airship and look foolish. Dr Fell was sitting back sternly, and Hadley looked with a weird expression at the tin revolver hanging by the trigger-guard from one finger. Then there were footfalls in the vestibule. Dr Fell said, `Hist!' and Rampole hastily extinguished the centre lights.
Dalrye saw the tableau a moment later, and jumped violently.
`Bring in the accused!' Dr Fell intoned, with a voice strongly suggestive of Hamlet's father's Ghost.
`Bring in who?' said Dalrye.
`Bring in Marks and lock the door.'
`You can't do it,' said Dalrye, after a moment's inspection. 'The lock's broken.'
`Well, shoot him in,' the Ghost suggested, in a more matter-of-fact tone, `and stand against it, then.'
'Right-ho,' said Dalrye. He was not sure what was going on, but he caught the cue, and frowned sternly as he ushered in Marks.'
The man who appeared was mild, and correct, and very nervous. Not a wrinkle in his neat clothes was out of place, and there was no guile in him. He had a long, lean head, with thin black hair parted sharply in the middle and brushed behind each large, ear.
At the sight of the tableau he froze. Nobody spoke.
`You — you wished to speak to me, sir?' he said, in a curious voice, with a slight jump at the end of it
`Sit down,' said Dr Fell:
Another silence, while Marks's eyes took in the properties. He lowered himself gingerly into the chair.
`Sergeant Rampole,' said the doctor, 'take down this man's testimony…. Your name?'
'Theophilus Marks, sir.'
Rampole made two crosses and a' squiggle. Occupation?'
`I am employed by Sir William Bitton, of Berkeley Square, sir. I–I hope, sir,' said Marks, swallowing, `that this is not in connexion with — with that dreadful business, sir, of Mr Philip.
'Your last position?'
'For fifteen years sir, 'I had the honour to serve Lord Sandival,' Marks said, eagerly.
'Aha!' rumbled the doctor, closing one eye. He looked rather as the Ghost would have looked had he caught Hamlet playing pinochle when he should have been attending to business. `Why did you leave your last place? Sacked?'
'No, sir! It was the death of His Lordship, sir.'
'M'm. Murdered, I suppose?' inquired the Ghost.
'Good Heavens, no sir!'
Marks was visibly wilting. The Ghost became practical. 'Now, look here, Marks, I don't mind telling you you're in a very had corner.. You've got a good position, haven't you?’
'Yes, sir. And I'm sure Sir William will give me the highest… '
'He won't, Marks, if he knows what we know. Would you like to lose your position, and go to gaol besides?' rumbled Dr Fell, picking up the handcuffs.
Marks moved backwards, his forehead damp.
'Marks,' said the Ghost, `give me your hat!'
As the valet held out his bowler, they could see under the light the large gold letters BITTON on the inside of the white lining in the crown. `Aha!' said the Ghost. `Pinching Sir William's hats, eh?'
'No, sir!' Marks cried. `Sir William gave me that hat. I wear the same size as he does. And he gave me that because he bought two new hats only, recently, and if you'll only let me prove it, sir…!’
'I'll give you your chance,' said the Ghost, ominously. He thrust his hand across the table. It held something round and flat and black; there was a click, and it leaped full grown into an opera-hat., `Put this hat on, Marks!’
By this time Rampole was so bewildered that he almost expected to see Dr Fell take from the hat a brace of rabbits. Marks stared. -
`This is Sir William's hat!' shouted the Ghost, `Put it on. If it fits you, I'll believe what you say.'
He began to stab with the hat in the direction of Marks's forehead. The valet was compelled to put it on. It was too large; not so, large as it had been on, the body of Driscoll, but still too large.
'So-ho!' rumbled the Ghost, standing up behind the table. Absently he had been fumbling in his pockets; the Ghost was excited, and making gestures with anything he could lay hold of. Dr Fell lifted his hand and shook it in the air. 'Confess, Marks!' he thundered. 'Miserable wretch, your guilt has found you out!'
He crashed his hand down on the table. To Marks's stupefaction, and Dr Fell's own irritation at the anti- climax, a large rubber mouse with white whiskers popped out of his hand and ambled slowly across the table towards Hadley. Dr Fell snatched it up hastily and put it into his pocket.
'Hem!' observed the Ghost. Then he paused, and added something which really brought Hadley out of his chair. `Marks,' said Dr Fell, `you stole Sir William's manuscript:
For a moment it looked as though the other were going to faint.
`I swear I didn't! But I didn't know, and I was afraid to tell when he explained it to me…!’
'I'll tell you what you did, Marks,' said Dr Fell, forgetting all about the Ghost and threatening in a natural voice. `Sir William gave me all the facts. You're a good valet, Marks, but you're one of the stupidest creatures in God's` world. Sir William bought two new hats on Saturday. One of the opera-hats he tried on at the shop was too large for him. But a mistake was made, and they sent the large one to him along with the Homburg, which was of the right size. Ha? You saw it. You wear the same size. But Sir William was going out to the theatre that night. You know what sort of a temper he has. If he found a hat that slid down over his forehead, he'd make it hot for the first person he could lay hands on….’
`Naturally you wanted his hat to be the right size, didn't you, Marks? But there wasn't time to get another hat; it was Saturday evening. So you did the natural thing. You used the same quick makeshift people have been using since hats were invented. You neatly stuffed the band on the inside with paper, the first harmless-looking paper you could find….'
Hadley flung the tin revolver on the table. `Good God, he said, `do you seriously mean to tell us that Marks tightened up the fit of that hat with Sir William's manuscript?'
`Sir William,' the doctor said, amiably, `gave us two clues himself which were absolutely, revealing. He said that the manuscript consisted of thin sheets of paper folded several times lengthwise, and rather long. Try folding
